


The Language of Flowers

by Suspicious_Popsicle



Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: F/F, Genderbending, fem!Fluri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:46:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5344622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suspicious_Popsicle/pseuds/Suspicious_Popsicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fem!Fluri florist fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Language of Flowers

One of Flynn's favorite things about Zaphias was the flower shop on the corner right next to her apartment building. A single-story building of brick made light and airy by its huge glass windows, the shop was dwarfed by its neighbors but impossible to miss. Flowers filled the interior, clustered thickly around the windows and spilling out the open front doors onto the sidewalk in a flood of color. Buckets of tulips, roses, sunflowers, lilies, and dozens of other blossoms greeted the city every day, perfuming the corner and driving back, if only for the space of one street corner, the smell of asphalt and exhaust. Potted azaleas and hydrangeas sat like colorful clouds between starry columbine and clematis blossoms clinging to plastic stakes. A dozen different types of ferns, vines, and flowers in hanging baskets reached down from beneath the awning and hung around the edges of the interior of the shop. Prices were displayed on chalkboard signs along with pastel drawings of some of the shop's selection.

Flynn passed the shop twice nearly every day on her way to or from the bus stop. Rain or shine, it never failed to cheer her up to see the rainbow of lilies and roses, the round clusters of allium, the fragrant gardenias, cheerful Gerbera daisies, nodding poppies, and heavy-headed peonies. Even so, she had only been inside a handful of times. School and work kept her busy enough that she rarely took time to explore the inside with its refrigerated cases, pre-made bouquets in bright cellophane, racks of cards ready to be filled out, small boxes of chocolates and selections of marzipan shaped and colored like miniature fruits. She took pleasure from the flowers that brightened the sidewalk and would sometimes climb out onto the fire escape outside her bedroom window with her microwave dinner or a share of homework. From there, she could see the roof of the flower shop with its small greenhouse and garden of potted plants and, below that, the flowers of the sidewalk display and the people walking past as the sun set over the city. The white noise of life in the city would lap against her awareness like gentle waves, and the breeze would occasionally carry the faint sent of roses.

Those were lovely, peaceful evenings but, every now and again, Flynn would find herself wishing for someone to share them with. Having spent more than ten years living in Halure, she felt almost like a newcomer to the city. She had only just moved back to Zaphias for her first semester at Knightsbridge University. Acquaintances from class hadn't yet become friends, and there were nights when Flynn couldn't deny that she was lonely. She didn't let herself dwell on it, even when the scent of flowers made her homesick for Halure. She was sure that, in time, Zaphias would start to feel like home again.

There was one other thing about the flower shop that made Flynn look forward to passing by...and, truth be told, made her reluctant to venture inside too often when she had no intention of buying anything. There was a girl named Yuri who worked in the shop, and she was... _beautiful_.

It had been one of her tattoos that had first caught Flynn's attention, one warm day in late summer. The girl had been standing with her back to the street, gathering an armful of lilies at the direction of a customer. She'd been wearing a tank top and gray cargo shorts that hung loose on her slender hips. She'd had her dark hair tied up in a bun, but sweat-damp tendrils had come loose to cling to her skin. At the base of her neck, right over the knob of her spine where the slope of her shoulders began, was a tattoo of an anemone flower. The petals were a deep indigo blue, fading into violet and tipped with crimson ink that dripped from the lowest petal into a bloody pool a finger's width below the flower. Its center was a black hole. It was so dark against her fair skin and so detailed that Flynn's eyes had almost been fooled for a moment into thinking it was real. She had continued on her way past the shop, then, unable to resist, glanced back and got her first look at Yuri's face.

Flynn had always known that there was no such thing as love at first sight, but in that moment, she had realized why some people believed in it.

That had been over a month ago. Since then, she'd been inside the florist shop twice, and both times her attempts to strike up a conversation with Yuri had been interrupted by actual customers. Today, Flynn was going to be sure that things worked out differently. Today, she wasn't just browsing—she was an actual customer with a specific, if somewhat odd, request. Although she was capable of putting together her own bouquet just fine, asking Yuri for help would finally give them a reason to talk. A nice walk among the flowers as they searched together for the right meaning, the best combination of color and shape.... Yuri would surely be impressed by her knowledge. Flynn's fascination with the meanings of flowers would soon prove unexpectedly helpful.

Yuri was working when Flynn came by that morning. She was out front in faded jeans and a red flannel shirt that mostly hid the anemone on her neck. As Flynn approached, she turned. Another tattoo, this one of a scarlet chrysanthemum, peeked out from beneath the collar of her unbuttoned shirt. A stem inked across the top of her chest held a bud just above the scoop collar of the charcoal top she wore beneath her flannel. Flynn had seen that tattoo for the first time on the day weeks ago when she had first ventured into the shop and first learned Yuri's name. Though it was hidden now, a tiny, white skull sat in the center of the open blossom, jaws open in a silent scream. Flynn couldn't help wondering if those two were the only tattoos Yuri had.

“Morning.” Yuri had saved her greeting until Flynn came closer to the flowers. “Just looking again today?”

She had noticed Flynn and remembered her. Popular as the shop was, Flynn hadn't expected that. She smiled and shook her head.

“I've got midterms coming up. I'd like something to cheer me on while I study.”

Amused, Yuri's smile stretched a bit wider. She didn't offer assistance, but Flynn took one more step closer, fingers tightening around the strap of her purse, eyes fixed on Yuri's.

“Could you help me pick something out?”

“Sure. What kind of flowers do you like? And what color?”

“Not pink,” Flynn said automatically. “I like most flowers, though.”

“Not much help narrowing things down for me, are you?”

It wasn't exactly world-class customer service, but Yuri was grinning at her, clearly not meaning anything by it, and Flynn would have happily put up with much worse teasing to have that smile focused on her. She smiled back, shaky and a bit sheepish over the vagueness of her answer and the blush she could feel heating her cheeks. Her heart was speeding up, clamoring for Yuri's attention.

Yuri was oblivious to the effect she was having. “You just need something small, right? Let me see what I can throw together.” She turned away, and Flynn drew a slow, deep breath.

Briefly, Yuri scanned the ranks of flowers on their tiered shelves. She must have decided what she wanted all at once, because when she moved, she was quick and unhesitating, not even glancing back to see if Flynn approved of her choices. She plucked two stems of light blue larkspur from their container. A dwarf sunflower was next, shining against the blue as if in its own cloudless sky. Near the entrance to the shop were pure white stephanotis, and Yuri added a few of these to her small bouquet. The colors were lovely together, but the combination was wrong for what Flynn wanted. She realized with some disappointment that Yuri either didn't know or didn't care what the flowers meant. When Yuri rushed inside without a word, Flynn followed, not sure what she was going to say.

It was always slightly dimmer inside the shop than Flynn expected. The clear morning sunlight streaming in through the doors and windows diffused quickly into the warm illumination coming from rows of overhead lights in round metal hoods. Being a corner shop, the two front walls were almost completely given over to windows in order to take advantage of the sunlight. A pair of topiaries strung with white fairy lights flanked the open doors, and more stands of stems fell off to one side in neat rows. Behind those were shelves displaying dish gardens and glass terrariums of succulents and ferns. Some of the terrariums hung from the ceiling, shining bubbles filled with tiny plants. There were shelves of vases and pots in every size and color. To the other side, potted hydrangeas, roses, and lilies clustered to mark off a short walkway, and stood two and three deep on the floor in front of the window, while cacti and African violets were arranged on the sill. Lantanas with their confetti-like flowers hung around the windows along with begonias, geraniums, petunias, and the fairy blossoms of fuchsia.

The checkout counter was near one of the back walls, guarding racks of ribbon and rolls of cellophane, supply shelves of shears, wire, frames and green floral foam. To either side of the counter were racks of cards and small boxes of chocolate or selections of marzipan shaped and dyed like miniature fruits. The fourth wall held humming refrigerators keeping pre-made bouquets of roses, tulips, lilies, and daisies fresh just a bit longer. Next to those were racks of conical plastic buckets holding dried accents—lotus pods, stalks of wheat, eucalyptus, and a dozen colors of dyed baby's breath. Yuri had made a beeline for the baby's breath, but she stopped mid-reach and glanced back over her shoulder at Flynn.

“The white would look kind of like clouds, but if you want it more colorful, I can do a spray of yellow to match the sunflower.”

“No, um...it isn't quite what I wanted.”

There was a moment of heavy silence as Yuri turned fully back to face her. The bouquet was a splash of bright color held in front of her breasts, the larkspur nearly tall enough to brush her lips.

“Any flowers. Not pink. Which part did I get wrong?”

“Well, they really don't have much to do with studying.”

“They're _flowers_.”

“Yes, and they have meanings.” Seeing that Yuri not only didn't know but also didn't care, Flynn barely suppressed a sigh. There went that common interest. She wondered if she might be able to inspire Yuri to learn. It couldn't hurt to try, and anyone who worked at a flower shop ought to know at least a few different meanings. She beckoned Yuri to follow her back outside. “Come on. I'll show you.”

As she stepped back out into daylight, Flynn hesitated. It _was_ a pretty odd request for a bouquet, and summer had ended some time ago, meaning the shop's selection would be getting sparser. Would she be able to find something that would fit her own request? Scanning the flowers, she was all too aware of Yuri stopping next to her, waiting to see what she could come up with. After having objected to Yuri's attempt, Flynn was going to have to manage _something_.

Round chrysanthemums in snowy white, pale pink, vivid red, or sunny yellow caught Flynn's eye from their place at the end of the sidewalk display. Standing up above and behind the more common varieties were a cluster of Chinese chrysanthemums, their slender brick red and goldenrod petals exploding out from their centers like fireworks held in stasis. Flynn lit up at the sight of them and hurried to draw one out and show Yuri her centerpiece.

“Cheerfulness in adversity,” she announced proudly.

“Having that much trouble with your exams?” Yuri cocked a skeptical eyebrow.

“Not exactly. I actually only just moved back to Zaphias, and I'm having some trouble adjusting.”

“Oh? Where were you living before?”

“Halure. My mother and I moved there when I was little, and I hadn't been back here until now. Things have changed so much that I barely recognize the city.”

As she was talking, Flynn spotted a mix of red, orange, and yellow poppies. It was late in the season for them, and she could almost imagine that the yellow flowers she selected were a sign of good luck.

“Where are you going to school?” Yuri asked.

“Knightsbridge University. I'm in their law program.”

“Yeah? Good luck with that.”

Yuri trailed along behind as Flynn headed back inside, arranging her flowers as she went. She was sure that, among the plastic buckets on the far wall, she had seen—yes! There! Flynn added a few stems of red clover to her bouquet, partially encircling the chrysanthemum that sat beneath the poppies on their long stems.

“What do the others mean?”

“Yellow poppies symbolize wealth and success. Obviously, the latter is more important to this arrangement. Red clover mean industry. I've got to work hard.” She smiled at her little bouquet, and smiled even wider when she looked up and met Yuri's eyes.

“You want some greenery to fill that out, or will it ruin the meaning?”

“No, I think that would be a nice touch.”

Yuri helped her pick out some bright green fern fronds that matched the lively colors of the flowers. Pleased with the end result, Flynn watched Yuri tie the bouquet with twine and ring up the flowers. She was sliding her card through the reader when Yuri asked:

“So, were you just screwing with me when you showed up today?”

Startled, Flynn looked up to meet a flat stare. “Sorry?”

Widening her eyes, Yuri pitched her voice an octave higher. “I really want my flowers to _speak_ to me. Can you help?” She leaned forward, arms on the counter as she stared at Flynn and waited for an explanation.

“I wasn't— Since you work here, I assumed that you knew more about flowers.”

It was the wrong response. Yuri's eyes narrowed. Her lips pressed thin.

“I know enough to do my job.”

“Not really,” Flynn said, knowing it wasn't fair and wanting to shut up, but unable to stop herself. She'd only wanted to create a chance to start a conversation, maybe flirt a little and test the waters. Instead, she'd gotten too wrapped up in the flowers and made a mess of things. She tried to soften her words with a smile, and fumbled for an explanation.

“Yours was really beautiful, but larkspur is for levity, and doubled like that, it can indicate haughtiness.”

“Was I wrong?” Yuri asked mildly.

Stung, but feeling that maybe she had deserved that, Flynn didn't respond to the jibe. “Sunflowers are for pride, which...I suppose I should take pride in my work, but they also mean appreciation and pure thoughts. Baby's breath—”

“Which didn't actually get added.”

“—is a sign of innocence and purity of heart, while stephanotis indicates happiness in marriage.” It was far too hot inside the shop, particularly with Yuri staring her down like a searchlight focusing on a criminal. Flynn cleared her throat and tried to continue. “You can see why those choices wouldn't really fit my request.”

“Yeah. Sure. What I _don't_ see is why a walking flower encyclopedia like yourself felt the need to ask help from a lowly part timer.” Her gaze sharpened into a flat-out glare. “I don't like being tested.”

Automatically, Flynn's hands flew up, palms out toward Yuri, defensive. “I wasn't trying to test you! Honest. I just wanted to see what you would put together.”

“I don't do the whole 'language of flowers' thing,” Yuri insisted. She turned her face away as she said it, and Flynn felt her heart sink.

“I didn't mean anything by it. Really, it never occurred to me that you wouldn't have learned for your job.”

“The owner is busy, and I'm not great at memorizing from books.” She turned her gaze back to Flynn, but now the look in her eyes was speculative. “You pass by here often enough. Teach me.”

“ _What_?”

Yuri grinned, lips pulling away from sharp, white teeth. “It can be your apology for screwing around and wasting my time this morning.”

“I-I don't—”

“Aw, come on. Ten minutes a morning, and I bet you could teach me about every flower we carry before the semester's out. And won't you feel better for having educated the ignorant?”

“I told you, that's not what I meant!”

Yuri laughed. “Sure, sure. You gonna teach me or not?”

It was a second chance. What choice did she really have?

“All right. What days would be best for you?”

* * *

 

Over the next several weeks as the air grew cooler and the days became shorter, Flynn began stopping in at the flower shop before catching her bus to class. It started off just like Yuri had said: ten minute intervals out of Flynn's day spent trying to teach Yuri the meanings of flowers. It wasn't long, however, until Flynn found herself rushing a bit faster through her morning routine, waking just a few minutes sooner, all in her eagerness to start her day surrounded by flowers and listening to Yuri's voice.

She had been worried at first that her presence would create an issue for Yuri, but that fear was soon set aside. The owner of the shop—one Estellise Sidos Heurassein, Estelle to her friends—was delighted to hear that Yuri would be learning more about flowers. She was startlingly young to be running a business, but Flynn learned from Yuri that she had inherited the shop upon the deaths of her parents. She had help from some of the staff that had run the shop with her parents, as well as a childhood spent among the flowers, and she was a quick study. Yuri, though the lowest in the employee pecking order, seemed to think of Estellise almost like a younger sister. She treated her boss with fond familiarity, confiding to Flynn that it was nice to have one she got along so well with since fighting with managers had gotten her fired several times in the past.

There were two other early bird workers that Flynn met. One was Raven, who delivered fresh flowers daily and helped advise Estellise on what would be the best stems to order for the next day. The other was Rita, in charge of creating decorative arrangements with foam and wire, and of seeing that the flowers were receiving the right amounts of sunlight, water, and plant food. While Raven would flirt insincerely with both Yuri and Flynn, Rita largely ignored Flynn's intrusion into her work day. She gave the impression that she didn't think Flynn would be able to teach Yuri much, but left them to their own devices and went on with her tasks.

At any given time, Yuri had two or three part time jobs to support herself. Working at the flower shop was the steadiest job she had, but the others took up her time in the evenings so that she was never in the shop past mid-afternoon. With no chance to meet her after class when she would have time to linger at the shop, Flynn made the most of their mornings together. While Yuri was sharp, she wasn't a particularly good student. She didn't complain about the lessons, but she was a master of switching topics. Some days, Flynn didn't even have a chance to discuss flowers with her at all. Yuri would ask how a test had gone, or if she had finished up a report. Flynn told her about some of the case histories she was studying, and they would argue over motives and verdicts.

It was strange, following Yuri around while she got the shop ready for the day, breath steaming white on the air as she arranged flowers on the sidewalk and clipped signs to their buckets. Yuri never stopped moving, never gave any indication that chatting with Flynn was affecting her work. She raised good points, asked insightful questions, argued fiercely when she believed she was in the right. The only indication that their discussions and debates got in the way of her job was that it was always Flynn who backed off when it looked like a customer needed help. Yuri rarely seemed to pay them any attention, otherwise.

As the days passed, they learned much more about each other than Yuri learned about the language of flowers. While Yuri didn't talk much about herself, her attitudes and opinions spoke volumes about the kind of person she was, and it was that far more than her circumstances that made seeing her the highlight of Flynn's day. A terrible first impression had somehow led to the beginning of the friendship Flynn had been hoping for, and she almost couldn't be happier.

Almost. It would be nice if they could meet someplace other than the flower shop, but it always seemed that if Yuri had some time off work, it was while Flynn was in class. She had never seen Yuri except for at work, hair tied up and surrounded by flowers. They'd had coffee together, shared slices of pound cake or split muffins when Flynn bought them from the cafe across the road, but they had never shared a meal, never sat down to talk until they ran out of things to say. Flynn badly wanted a chance to spend more than half an hour with Yuri, wanted to have a day when she didn't have to worry that she was a distraction when Yuri ought to be working, or feel jealous over customers that could call Yuri away mid-sentence. The more time she spent with Yuri, the more time she wanted with her.

It would also be nice if she could tell whether Yuri's occasional teasing was only that, or if it was her way of flirting. Not being sure was supremely frustrating.

One morning, well past the middle of autumn, Flynn was actually making some progress toward her original goal of teaching Yuri about the meanings of the flowers she sold to people. Yuri had been in a strange mood all morning, taciturn to the point of being grumpy. At first, Flynn had put it down to the weather. Yuri didn't like being cold, and had been arriving in increasing layers of sweaters and hoodies. Long past the point where she should have warmed up and started feeling more herself, she was still distant and had become snappish when Flynn tried to speak with her as she worked. It was almost enough to make Flynn leave, and she was gathering her bag when she decided to give Yuri one more chance before giving up on the morning.

Flynn approached her from behind, keeping an arm's length back to leave Yuri her space. She spoke quietly, though Estellise and Rita were both out of earshot in the back office.

“Yuri? What's wrong?”

There was a moment when Flynn was actually afraid that Yuri was going to round on her or throw the stack of pots she was holding. Instead, Flynn watched as she took a deep breath and sighed it out, shoulders lifting and settling in her soft, black sweater.

“Sorry,” Yuri muttered as she bent to put the pots in their place on the shelf. “Had a late night.” She turned around and managed a small smile. “You haven't been doing a very good job teaching me about flowers. Better start earning your keep around here before the boss sends you packing.”

As Yuri busied herself dusting shelves and terrariums, Flynn pointed out stems and potted flowers inside the shop and went over their meanings and symbolism. She assumed that Yuri was listening, but it was difficult to tell. Yuri wasn't interrupting or asking questions or changing the subject. She barely glanced up at each different plant, and Flynn soon started to feel as if her voice was nothing more than background noise. She trailed off, wondering if Yuri would even notice.

The silence between them stretched out second by second. Yuri paid it no mind. Flynn felt it keenly as she watched Yuri work, watched the way her hair gleamed beneath the lights as she moved. It was the first time Flynn had seen her leave it down. She didn't quite believe that a late night was the sole cause of Yuri's mood, but she could practically feel the wall thrown up between them and wasn't sure how to breach it, wasn't even sure she'd be welcome if she tried.

The bell over the shop door rang out as a harried-looking young man rushed in. He made straight for Yuri in her black canvas apron, breaking up the tension with his interruption.

“Can you help me? I need some flowers for my girlfriend.”

Without a word, Yuri left her dust rag on the shelf and turned to follow the man outside. Flynn started to go along, but held back at the last minute. She hadn't felt so unsure about her welcome in the flower shop since the first day she had come to tutor Yuri. She lingered near the counter, feeling useless and telling herself that she ought to simply leave for the day. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to go. What she had with Yuri was more than just a casual acquaintance, but did they really count as friends when they only spent time together with the excuse of learning about flowers?

Maybe not. Maybe they weren't friends yet. Flynn sighed, then drew herself up a bit straighter. If she wanted that to change, then she would make an effort to change it. Maybe Yuri would have some time between this job and the next to go get lunch. Maybe she needed someone to talk to, maybe not. Flynn would make the offer, at least.

Yuri came back inside, customer in tow. She held a bouquet, startlingly bright against the darkness of her hair and attire. Black-centered purple anemones surrounded three stems of frothy pink hyacinth. Cyclamen a pale orchid in color had been added as a mid-tone between the two. Flynn stared at the bouquet, glanced at Yuri's flat expression and saw fading anxiety on the man's face. She shouldn't intervene. She knew she shouldn't. But....

“Your girlfriend likes anemones?” Flynn stepped closer, nodding at the flowers.

“I don't know. She doesn't like roses, I know that. And she likes these colors.”

He gestured at the bouquet, a helpless, uncertain movement, and Flynn was suddenly sure that Yuri had picked it out all by herself. Once again, she hadn't paid any attention to meaning, only to color and type of flower. Once again, the result was lovely, and once again, the message was completely inappropriate.

“Yuri? Can I talk to you for just a moment?”

Flynn didn't miss the steely glint in Yuri's eyes, but she'd been coming around to try and teach her these things for weeks, and she wasn't about to back down. Yuri wasn't stupid. She should have picked up on some of what Flynn had been trying to teach her. They moved a few steps away from the counter, and Flynn leaned in, keeping her voice low.

“That mix is all wrong. I don't know if this is for an anniversary or if he—”

“They got into an argument over money. He wouldn't shut up about it.”

“Probably because part of your job is to help with situations like this. Yuri, cyclamen was one of the first flowers I pointed out to you. It means resignation and good bye. You can't pair something like that with anemones and then throw in a pink hyacinth! It ends up reading like he's been playing around with her, but wants out. Handing her that is like saying: 'Well, it's been fun, but this it it' and leaving her with all her unfulfilled expectations.”

Yuri stared at her, lip curling in unconcealed irritation. “You take this way too seriously,” she muttered. Then, turning her back to Flynn, she returned to the front counter.

“Hey, Flynn here says that if your girlfriend is a secret flower expert, that bouquet is gonna mean quits for the two of you. Luckily, she's going to pick you out something that'll not only make her forgive you, but will be guaranteed to get you laid.”

“Yuri!” Flynn's cheeks burned, but the man was now looking at her with such desperation that she didn't have it in her to argue. “Come with us,” she muttered to Yuri as she passed by on her way out the door. If she was going to be doing Yuri's job, as least she could turn it into a lesson.

Outside, Flynn surveyed the flowers available, searching for those that fit the customer's request. She had decided on what to include in the bouquet before she touched a single stem. As she began gathering her selections, she explained the meanings behind each one.

“We'll start with gladiolus for the focus. These mean that the giver is sincere.” They also meant 'give me a break,' but Flynn left that part out as she chose three stems of gladiolus with fuchsia-edged white blossoms. “Tulips are a declaration of love.” She chose several purple and pale pink flowers, arranging them around the gladiolus stems. “Last, we'll add one more, partially as an accent, but also to deepen the meaning. Lily of the Valley symbolizes humility and a return to happiness. They're perfect for a heartfelt apology. They can also mean 'you've made my life complete'.” She turned back to the customer, displaying the bouquet. Yuri was huddled in on herself near the door, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jeans. “Got all of that?”

“Uhh...” He pointed to each of the flowers in turn. “Sincerity, love, happiness and humility.”

“Great,” Flynn said with an encouraging smile. “She'll be touched that you put so much thought into it.”

Neither of them missed Yuri's snort as she returned to the warmth inside the shop. The man paid Yuri for his flowers, but it was Flynn that he thanked before hurrying out the door. She watched him go, pleased to have been able to help. That sense of accomplishment was short-lived.

“You trying to get me fired?”

Yuri was leaning low over the counter, palms flat against it, fingers spread. She was glowering, looking like she was about to launch herself across, but Flynn had had enough of her sullen temper.

“All I did was help out. You're the one who was being rude, and you're the one who hasn't bothered learning her job. If you get fired, you're only going to have yourself to blame.”

“Oh, fuck _off_. Who the hell gets so self-righteous over flowers?”

“I'm _not_ being self-righteous—”

“I bet there aren't a dozen other people in the city that know all that crap. Our customers _don't care_. What are the odds his girlfriend would have known?”

“Slim to none!” The immediacy of Flynn's agreement startled Yuri. “I know it's uncommon. I understand that. So what? He came in here wanting to patch things up with his girlfriend, and tried to buy a bouquet without thinking. Where's the heart in that? Sure, he had no idea what the flowers meant. And, yeah, maybe he doesn't even really care. I can guarantee you, though, that he's going to tell his girlfriend all about the meanings of those flowers. They're going to help him get the words out. People give flowers because they want to convey a _feeling_ to someone, but sometimes those feelings need to be articulated. It's a shame that so many people have lost a beautiful way to do that, but you should be able to help help bring that language _back_! Even if you only think of it as part of the job. Even if you think it's all nonsense.”

Slowly, the shock that had kept Yuri quiet morphed into a crooked smirk. The expression was sunlight peeking out from behind storm clouds after her gloomy mood all morning. Flynn's heart skipped a beat at the difference it made, watching as Yuri cocked her head to the side, spilling a lock of silky hair over her shoulder and onto the counter top. Flynn's fingers twitched with the impulse to reach out and smooth it back. She thought that she had finally made her interest in flowers clear, and that understanding had dispelled Yuri's bad mood. That misconception lasted only until Yuri spoke.

“You are such a nerd.”

Rolling her eyes, Flynn sighed heavily. “I've got to catch my bus,” she said. She left, knowing that she was sill in for a fifteen minute wait out in the cold. Better that, though, than staying in the shop any longer. Flynn feared that she wouldn't be able to rein in her temper if Yuri's only alternative to 'moody' was 'mocking.'

The rest of the day proceeded in a far more mundane fashion than its unusual and unpleasant start. Even so, Flynn found herself exhausted by the end of her last class thanks to the way her brain had insisted on bringing up thoughts of Yuri at every opportunity. Guilt eased its way in despite the fact that Yuri had been shockingly rude. She hadn't been herself. Something had happened to put her in such a foul mood, but Flynn's own temper had flared up in response and she'd said a few things that she probably shouldn't have said. Not that she'd been wrong, but she could have tried to be both right and tactful. She figured that she probably ought to apologize to Yuri in the morning.

Flynn took the bus back to the stop near her apartment, trudged along the sidewalk, past the flower shop, and couldn't help peeking in. The girl with purple hair at the register could have been Yuri's sister...except Flynn remembered Yuri saying that she didn't have any family. Remembering that only made Flynn feel worse for having walked out earlier. She turned away from the shop, shoulders hunched against a sudden gust of cold wind, and hurried back to her apartment.

It hadn't been a particularly trying day, but it felt unreasonably long. As she let herself into her apartment, Flynn considered simply throwing herself onto her bed to see if sleep would claim her. She couldn't help thinking that Yuri wouldn't soon forgive her for what had happened that morning. It was a depressing thought, particularly since Yuri was the closest Flynn had come to making a friend. That, and she had still been harboring hopes that their friendship might grow into something a bit more intimate. She sighed. Yuri's artless loveliness had been what first caught her eye, but if that had been all there was to her, that spark would have guttered out long before now.

Flynn locked the door behind herself and hung up her keys and coat. She pulled off her boots and stood them neatly to the side of the door. Her messenger bag had a place in the always unoccupied second chair of her dinette set. Homework would have to wait until she regained the energy to tackle it. Even food seemed like too much of a chore. She opened her freezer, looking over the selection of microwave dinners stocked there, and closed it back without taking one. Later, maybe, when she was hungry enough that they seemed appetizing.

Was this what it felt like to be lovesick? To be unable to stop worrying over an exchange that might mean nothing in a day or two? Flynn had never met anyone who dominated her thoughts so completely. She'd been distracted all day, thinking about the shine on Yuri's hair and how silky it must feel, the beautiful gray of her eyes even as they gleamed with anger, the frown on her petal pink lips, her slender wrists, the curve of her neck, the soft swell of her breasts....

Flynn stomped down on that train of thought as she pulled down a plastic watering can from off the top of her fridge. No, no, no. Not going there. They weren't even friends yet, were they? Yuri had no interest in her outside of work, and even that was questionable. After this morning, Flynn was beginning to wonder if Yuri had only wanted someone around to chat with and distract her from her job.

Turning on the tap, she filled the watering can from the kitchen sink. An aloe plant in a terracotta pot sat nearby on the counter, and Flynn gave it a drink, smiling fondly at the plump leaves with their tiny spines along the edges. She had a small fuchsia hanging in the corner near her dinette, and she watered that next, searching for any sign that it wasn't getting enough sun from the wide windows across the living room. The three African violets on her coffee table were next. They were blooming well, throwing up clusters of royal purple flowers above their thick, velvety leaves. She brushed her fingers gently over them, grateful for their beauty and the sense of calm that caring for them brought her.

The last of her plants was in her bedroom, a Christmas cactus that sat on a small end table beside her window, pink buds just beginning to form in response to the chill in the air. She flipped on the light switch, but froze as her eyes passed across her window. Someone had been on the fire escape outside and had left a folded piece of paper and a single, dark pink rose taped to the glass. Weariness forgotten, she crossed the room, setting the watering can down on her desk as she passed. Her name was written large across the paper in ballpoint pen, so there was no mistaking that it was definitely meant for her. More curious than wary, she opened the window and stretched her arm out to pluck both loose and pull them inside.

It was only slightly surprising that Yuri had left them. They'd realized early on that they both lived in the same building, though Yuri hadn't told Flynn which unit she lived in.

The note was short. 'Come up.' An arrow pointing up had been drawn next to the number of the apartment just above Flynn's.

Cryptic, but promising. If Yuri had still been angry, doubtless she would have confronted Flynn in person. The flower was more eloquent, if still slightly mystifying.

_Thankfulness_.

On the very first morning of Yuri's hit-and-miss lessons on the language of flowers, Flynn had gone over the meanings of different types and colors of roses. Given Yuri's apparently short attention span and evident disinterest in the subject, she wouldn't have expected Yuri to remember. She couldn't help wondering if Yuri had meant to send that particular message or not.

She started for the door, hesitated, hung back to check the mirror hanging next to her closet. Should she change first? Freshen up a bit? Yuri hadn't given her many clues about what to expect. Her hair was a mess. She dragged her fingers through it to little effect and had to do the same once more after changing into a soft, v-neck sweater. She turned side-to-side, surveying herself. The sweater was becoming, hugging her curves and almost matching the shade of her eyes. She knew she looked good in it and the pale jeans she wore. She wondered if Yuri would notice.

Flynn patted her pocket for her wallet, dragged her boots back on, and grabbed her keys. Anything else? She shouldn't need to bring anything. Maybe all Yuri wanted was just a quick word with her. Should she go, then? Just come when she was called? But Yuri had left the rose, too.

The rose! Flynn had left it on her bed. She went back to get it and hesitated again. Should she bring it, or leave it here in a vase? It was the last straw as far as her indecision went, and she growled, pushing away the sudden bout of nerves that being invited to Yuri's apartment had raised in her. This was stupid. It wasn't like it was a date. It might not even be anything. She ran some water into a bud vase and set the rose on her dinette table before leaving.

She didn't rush up the stairs, but her heart was beating a bit faster than usual anyway by the time she reached Yuri's door thanks to uncertainty and excitement. Flynn took a breath, smoothed down her hair one last time, then knocked.

There was a shout from inside: “Coming!” A few moments and a sharp, metal-on-metal rapping later, Yuri opened the door. She was wearing a baggy, scoop-neck sweater that had slipped down over her bare chrysanthemum shoulder, and an old pair of sweat pants. She was barefoot, her hair was tied up in a messy bun from which locks protruded like the arms of a starfish in every direction, and she held a potato masher in one hand. The mouth-watering aroma of cooked meat wafted from the apartment, and Flynn wondered how long ago Yuri had left that note and if she'd anticipated being interrupted while making dinner.

“Did I come at a bad time?”

“What? No. Come in.” Yuri stepped aside and waved her through. “You've got really good timing, actually. I just took the pork out a couple minutes ago. Let me get the kale on.” She locked the door and turned smartly, not at all concerned that Flynn still wasn't entirely certain what was going on.

“The message you left on my window was a little vague.”

She followed Yuri into the kitchen. A pork tenderloin crusted with spices sat steaming on a ceramic serving plate on the counter along with one pot of mashed potatoes and one pot of homemade applesauce. It smelled amazing, and Flynn's stomach rumbled. She hadn't had a good, home-cooked meal since she had left Halure.

Yuri dropped the potato masher into the sink and spun to face the stove. She turned on a burner beneath a frying pan, drizzled in some olive oil, and scraped some freshly-chopped garlic off a cutting board into the pan.

“Have you eaten?” She glanced back at Flynn before giving the garlic a stir.

“No. Was 'Come up' supposed to mean 'Come up and have dinner with me'?”

“Got it in one.”

“And the rose?”

“Well, you didn't teach me what flower means 'Sorry for acting like an ass' so I had to choose the next best thing.” The oil was starting to sizzle faintly, and the scent of cooking garlic filled the tiny kitchen. Yuri picked up a bowl of kale leaves and dropped them in. “It means I'm thankful,” Yuri murmured, stirring the kale as it cooked. “Do I pass?”

There was a hint of mockery in the question, but it wasn't anything like the bitterness that had added bite to her words that morning.

“I'm pleasantly surprised. I hadn't thought you would have remembered.”

“Not as dumb as I look.”

“I never said you looked dumb! Or that you are dumb, for that matter.”

“But you're surprised I can learn?”

“That isn't what I meant. Roses were your first lesson, and that was weeks ago. You haven't exactly been keen to learn since then.”

“I've learned lots of things. Maybe you weren't keen enough to stick to the subject.”

“Yuri! You're the one who always gets us off track!”

“So? It's not like you ever seem to care.” She switched off the burner and turned the kale out into a bowl where she mixed it briefly with a splash of vinegar. “Plates are in the cupboard behind you.”

Using the excuse to take a moment to consider her response, Flynn opened the cupboard above the sink and pulled down two plates. “Forks?”

“Drawer on your right. We're doing buffet-style so I don't have to wash as many dishes. Help yourself.”

Flynn pulled out a fork for each of them as well as two knives from the block on the counter top. She helped herself to kale and mashed potatoes and a small serving of the applesauce while Yuri carved slices off the roast. They stepped around each other in the tiny kitchen, trading places, then Yuri set her plate down to pour both of them a glass of water and sent Flynn into the living room to have a seat on the couch. Rather than sitting down next to her, Yuri sat right down on the floor across the coffee table. Now that she was out of the kitchen, she reached back to pull her hair free of the tie that held it up. She cut off a bite of pork, topped it with some applesauce, and ate it. In the awkward silence of their derailed conversation, Flynn followed suit, though without the applesauce garnish. The meat was tender and juicy, flavored simply with garlic, salt, and pepper, but delicious nonetheless. She took another bite, wondering if Yuri would be willing to teach her to cook.

“You were kind of an asshole today, too,” Yuri said around a mouthful of potatoes.

“What?”

“I was in a bad mood, I'll give you that. But you could have kept your mouth shut until that guy was gone.”

“I....” Flynn started to defend herself, but what was there really to say? Yuri had a point. “I know. I just—”

“Yeah, I got it. You explained pretty well earlier. What doesn't make sense is why you don't show any of that passion when you're supposed to be trying to teach me.”

“You called me a nerd,” Flynn reminded her.

Yuri grinned at her. “Because you are. Look, it's not a bad thing. Knowing all that stuff about secret flower codes means you're a flower nerd, but it also makes you happy. You lit right up when you went off on me, earlier. And you were beaming out there with the flowers.”

Flynn set her fork down and tried to pick through Yuri's words. They were encouraging in more ways than one. Yuri said that she'd lit up, that she'd been beaming. Even angry, she'd noticed. The realization made Flynn smile.

“All right, so...you like the fact that I have a real interest in flowers.”

“Yeah.”

“But you're upset because I wasn't showing enough passion when I came to teach you?”

“Well, kinda. I mean, you came in that day acting like it was a big deal, but then you don't even really care if we spend a whole morning talking about anything _except_ for flowers. And _then_ you go putting on your Miss Know-it-all act again with a customer. So, yeah. I was a little pissed.”

Now Yuri's reaction made more sense. Anyone would have been angry after being expected to demonstrate knowledge they hadn't been taught. Head bent over her plate, Flynn tried a bite of the kale and chewed slowly. She had agreed to teach Yuri, then gotten too caught up in chatting to do it. Thinking of it that way, it _had_ been unfair of her to have expected Yuri to be able to put together something meaningful for the customer that morning.

“I'm sorry,” Flynn said.

“It's cool.”

“Do you still want me to teach you?”

“Of course. Besides, I learned something good about you this morning, so I'll consider us even.” She was grinning so wide that Flynn had a hard time holding back a smile of her own.

“What did you learn about me?”

“I learned that, even though you're passionate about all that flower stuff and you really want me to learn it, all this time you've been even more interested in just talking to me.”

Her smile was almost impish, filled with amusement and glee and even a spark of pride. She took another bite of her dinner, still smiling as she chewed, and Flynn couldn't help but stare. Had Yuri noticed, then? Had she seen Flynn's few, clumsy attempts at flirting for what they were? Had she been flirting back?

When Yuri looked up, Flynn hurriedly dropped her gaze to her plate. Her cheeks felt warm enough that she knew she was blushing, and knowing only embarrassed her further. Being around Yuri like this made her feel as if she was experiencing her first crush all over again. The giddiness and uncertainty filled her stomach so that she wasn't sure she would be able to take another bite of the food on her plate. Unable to resist sneaking a peek, she found Yuri waiting to meet her eyes.

“I guess it's a good thing you didn't just take that bouquet I put together for you. Although, I gotta say, mine was way prettier.” He smile widened. “It even matched your eyes.”

Flynn's fading blush returned with a vengeance. She took a drink of water, stalling her response as she savored the compliment. Yuri thought she had pretty eyes! And, like an idiot, she'd gone and turned down that compliment because she hadn't been able to leave well enough alone. Yuri had tried to send her a message with flowers. It just wasn't in the language Flynn was used to reading.

“I didn't realize you'd considered it like that.”

“Hey, just 'cause I don't have all your fancy knowledge doesn't mean I don't try to manage something that'll fit my customers.”

“Yeah. You do pick out lovely bouquets.”

“Gee, thanks. It's only been, what, over two months since we started hanging out? And you're only just now admitting that? Some friend you are.”

“Friend?” She hadn't meant to say it out loud, but surprise got the better of her. This was the first time she had ever seen Yuri outside the flower shop. Were they really friends?

Yuri gave her a considering look. “You know, I kinda figured you were using the flower lessons as an excuse, but I also hoped you'd have caught on before now. Yeah. _Friends_. I'm the first you've made here, right?”

She didn't socialize with her classmates. Study sessions ended once the material had been covered. Yuri knew all that. She'd been listening to Flynn talk about classes and her experience at the university for weeks.

“Yeah. Friends. Sorry, I—”

“I can't tell if you're a little dense, or if you just take everything too seriously. Eat your dinner. It's getting cold.”

Grateful to have the topic brushed aside and be given a chance to consider it privately, Flynn followed Yuri's orders. They ate in silence for a time, but it was a comfortable silence of good food and friendly company. The tension from earlier had faded away. Flynn cleaned her plate and leaned back against the couch, satisfied. Yuri sighed loudly when she finished and lay back on the floor, stretching and wriggling with a pleased smile on her lips. Flynn did her best not to stare, but she couldn't help looking, watching the movement of Yuri's body, her slender curves beneath her baggy clothes. When her sweater rode up, Flynn caught sight of the bottom of another tattoo on her left side, opposite the chrysanthemum. This one was gray scale, a carefully-shaded fringe of fur just over her hip. She was wondering what it could be when Yuri caught her staring.

“Wanna see?”

Without waiting for Flynn to answer, Yuri surged to her feet and pulled up the hem of her sweater to just below her breasts. Nothing on earth could have torn Flynn's eyes away from her toned stomach and pale skin, the curve of her spine and shadows over muscle and rib. Flynn had known that Yuri was athletic, but being given a look at her abs made Flynn's mouth go dry. Yuri put herself on display, turning ever so slightly this way and that to show off her third tattoo. This one was the face and ruff of a wolf, gaze calm, ears perked and alert. It was black and gray against Yuri's skin, the only color coming from the striking marigold yellow of its eyes. Floral stems, their thin leaves spiky at the ends so that they resembled tufts of fur, rose up around the wolf's head, gracefully inked over Yuri's ribs and capped with three poppies the same deep yellow as the wolf's eyes. The tallest blossom stretched all the way to just beneath Yuri's breast. Flynn saw the pale curve of it only just revealed by the edge of Yuri's sweater. She took in every line of Yuri's body, pressing her damp palms to her thighs and focusing all her will power to remain seated.

“This one took forever,” Yuri was saying, “but it came out pretty awesome.”

She was still holding her sweater up, head bowed so that she could admire her tattoo along with Flynn. With her free hand, she reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair back behind her ear. Flynn felt the urge to get up and go to her, wrap her arms around Yuri, feel the warmth of her body, rub fingertips and palm against her skin, kiss her hair over her temple, press lips to her cheek, her mouth, be kissed in return. She looked away, embarrassed by the strength of her desire when Yuri had only just confirmed that they were indeed friends. Did she know how Flynn felt? Would she still have invited her up if she did?

“It's beautiful,” Flynn said, because she had to say something. What she meant was: 'You're beautiful.'

It was with an odd mixture of relief and disappointment that Flynn watched Yuri tug her sweater back down. She could ask her out right now, put an end to the uncertainty, find out if one day she would be free to touch. But then Yuri smiled at her and asked if she had any tattoos and laughed when Flynn said no. Her laugh was soft and short. Flynn didn't hear it nearly often enough.

“I knew it. Had to ask, though.” Yuri gestured to the remote on the far end of the couch and picked up their plates. “Find us a movie or something. I'll be right back.”

Flynn had homework waiting for her down in her apartment. She had class in the morning, and she was planning on being up early enough to see Yuri again. She weighed her options and grabbed the remote.

What would Yuri want to watch? She had mentioned that she like action movies. Flynn searched through menus for what was available and found a post-apocalyptic movie with a female lead that she'd heard good things about. She had it ready to go when Yuri came back in, but didn't press play immediately. There was something she had meant to ask. She waited as Yuri sat down, settling in sideways on the couch to lean against the far arm.

“Is everything all right?” When Yuri looked at her, confused, Flynn elaborated. “You were acting weird this morning. What happened?”

“What, you didn't buy my late night excuse?” Yuri's smile was wan. She let her gaze wander to the TV where nothing was playing and crossed her arms loosely over her chest. “I got fired,” she admitted.

“Again?” Yuri had talked to Flynn about her part time jobs, about how she had difficulty keeping them sometimes due to her temper getting the better of her. “Did you argue with your manager?”

“A customer this time.”

“Yuri....”

“He was being a jackass. I tried being nice first.” She scowled, pressing herself further into the couch. “It just sucks, you know? That one was paying most of my bills. Now I have to go hunt for another one, dress myself up for interviews, start all over...all because if the drunk asshole has money, no one's allowed to tell him off.”

“I'm sorry.” Suggesting that Yuri learn to keep a tighter lid on her temper was the best advice for this situation, but obviously not something that would go over well. Flynn might have said it anyway if Yuri hadn't spoken up.

“Play the movie.”

Flynn did as Yuri requested, though neither of them was fully invested. Slowly, as the movie played on and served as distracting background noise, Yuri told Flynn about the customer and how she'd tried to do her job and make sure he was satisfied and how, after an hour of dealing with him between her other tables, Yuri had finally snapped and all but thrown him out herself. She complained about the manager that had fired her and how much she hated job interviews because wearing business clothes and doing up her hair respectably and paying close attention to her makeup made her feel like she was pretending to be something she wasn't when the job was just going to put her in a uniform anyway. She talked about relieving stress at the gym and invited Flynn to join her. Knightsbridge had a gym open to all its students that Flynn had been using, but she didn't tell Yuri that, simply accepted the invitation with genuine happiness. Halfway through the movie, Yuri had dug her feet beneath Flynn's thigh to keep her toes warm, and Flynn felt like they had bee friends for years. She wondered how she had ever been uncertain that she had gained Yuri's friendship.

* * *

 

As autumn made way for winter, Flynn found herself spending more and more time with Yuri. She kept up her morning visits to the shop, but without the worry that their friendship would end once she'd taught Yuri all she knew, Flynn was far more focused on her reason for being there. They still got distracted, but it was rare that Flynn didn't cover at least one or two new flowers. She quizzed Yuri on ones they'd gone over previously and asked her what sorts of bouquets she would put together for different situations. Yuri always turned those questions back on her, and they would compete sometimes to see who could build a prettier bouquet. Rita was a reluctant judge, but Estellise was all too happy to encourage them when she was in early. They borrowed stock catalogs to go over out-of-season flowers or varieties that the shop didn't carry. Yuri learned it all without complaint and with only minimal teasing, and Flynn stayed well clear of customers.

Still, even though she didn't ever again step in, she watched Yuri handle the ones who needed help with their selections. More and more often, Yuri would make suggestions to them rather than just picking flowers that fit their ideas for color or type. Flynn began to notice that customers left the shop as often as not looking at their flowers rather than their path, pleased not only by the beauty of the bouquets Yuri helped put together, but also by the fact that it meant something more to them than an easy apology or a quick gesture of affection. Yuri had noticed it too, and Flynn could tell that she was beginning to take more pride in her job.

They began hanging out away from the flower shop. Flynn paid for a membership at Yuri's gym so that they could work out together. She learned firsthand just how fiercely competitive Yuri could be, and was only too happy to rise to any challenge her friend set. They wore each other out that way on more than one occasion, and would drag their tired feet to a nearby all night diner to recharge before going home.

Despite her concerns, Yuri found a second job fairly quickly. The hours meant that she and Flynn didn't have dinner together very often. Sometimes, though, on Yuri's nights off, she would send Flynn a text or climb down the fire escape to tap on her window and invite her up. She was a wonderful cook and always insisted that it was just as easy to cook for two, so she might as well. That was probably true enough, but Flynn saw the way Yuri smiled when she cleared away plates scraped clean. It was that pleased, proud smile that came to mind when Flynn asked Yuri what her secret was, since everything she made came out delicious.

“Love,” Yuri said, and Flynn wasn't sure if the answer or her apparent seriousness was more surprising. “When you cook, you've got to do it with love if you want it to turn out well.”

“Love?” She desperately wanted Yuri to elaborate.

“Yeah.” Yuri nodded and cleared away the dishes.

She let Flynn pick a movie, and they said nothing more about it, though Flynn couldn't keep her thoughts from racing. Love of cooking, she wondered, or love for the person you're cooking for? Yuri provided no clues as to the answer, and Flynn wondered if she had been serious or not.

It was a Saturday that night, and they stayed up late, channel surfing and chatting long after the movie ended. Lulled by the pleasant company and quiet conversation, by the heat of Yuri's apartment and the darkness held at bay only by the light of the TV, Flynn was filled with a sleepy contentment. She'd stretched out on her stomach on the couch. Yuri was sitting on the floor, as she so often did, leaning forward over the coffee table, arms stretched across it, remote held in her hands and bobbing as she flipped through the channels. Without thinking, Flynn reached out and ran her fingers through the dark fall of Yuri's hair. It was just as silky-soft as she'd imagined, and she smiled to herself. When Yuri didn't complain, she shifted, making it easier to reach with both hands as she finger combed through it and began plaiting it into a braid.

“My dad started teaching me about flowers when I was really little,” Flynn said quietly. “He knew a lot about them—about how to grow and care for them and when they bloomed and what they meant. It's because of him that I have such an interest in the language of flowers.” She smiled to herself. “He used to say that I was a gift from the flower fairies—because flowers were how he won over my mom. He would always, always bring her flowers and tell her what they meant. He made up a lot of it.” Flynn laughed softly. Yuri was silent, no longer switching channels every few seconds. “Even after they were married, even after I was born, there were always flowers in our house.

“When he...after he died, mom moved us out to Halure. He'd taken her there, once. She remembered all the flowers. I guess...they must have helped, though it was hard for her at first. But we have a garden at our house. I think everybody there does, like it's an unwritten rule. But every spring the town would start to bloom again and it wouldn't stop flowering until late fall. She said it was like dad was watching over us, making the whole city flower so that we would know how much he loved us.”

Her hands had stilled, tangled in the end of the braid. She had to move them as Yuri leaned back against the couch. Yuri's head bumped Flynn's chin, hair tickling against skin, and she reached up and back to rest a hand on Flynn's head, fingers stirring her hair.

“What happened to him?”

“Killed in the line of duty. He was a police officer.”

She slipped an arm around Yuri's shoulders, hugging her loosely. It had been a long time since she'd talked about her father, but the sense of loss still left her feeling empty and in need of comfort. Taking a deep breath, Flynn curled a bit closer to Yuri, grateful for the gentle strokes against her hair. She butted her forehead against Yuri's, comforted by her closeness, by her touch and her scent.

“Is that why you decided to become a prosecutor?” Yuri asked. “You wanted to make a difference?”

“Yeah. I guess I'm still kind of a daddy's girl.” She tried to laugh. Yuri reached up and patted her arm.

“I wish I could have met your dad.”

“He'd have liked you.” Flynn was sure of it. Like Yuri with her cooking, anything Finath had done for someone he loved, he'd done it with all his heart.

* * *

 

As the semester drew to a close, preparation for finals began taking up increasing amounts of Flynn's time. She stayed longer on campus with her study groups and spent more time in the evenings pouring over her textbooks and working on the papers due for two of her classes. It meant that she had less time to spend with Yuri, but she still kept up her morning visits, and they had dinner together at least once a week on Yuri's night off.

The flower shop traded out some of its warmer weather stock for potted poinsettias and amaryllis, as well as miniature Christmas trees. The shelves were decorated with evergreen boughs and fairy lights. Fresh sprigs of mistletoe and holly were added to the floral stems, and pine cones and magnolia leaves joined the selection of accents. The shop smelled of fir and cinnamon, cloves and roses. It reminded Flynn of Christmases growing up, the distant but joyful years when her father had been alive, the quieter years in Halure with her mother. She would be returning home during the break, and could hardly believe that the semester had ended so quickly.

One night, in the middle of writing a term paper, Flynn heard a knock at her window. She knew immediately that it was Yuri, though it was unusually late for her to be visiting. Flynn had drawn her curtains against the darkness outside hours ago. She stood and stretched, surprised to find that she'd gone stiff. It made her smile to think that maybe Yuri had sensed that she needed a break. She pulled the curtains open to find a surprise waiting for her.

Yuri stood just outside, huddled in layers of winter clothing and grinning. Behind her, the fire escape twinkled with lights. Wide-eyed, Flynn opened the window and leaned out to get a better look. Half a dozen of the round terrariums from the flower shop hung at various heights from Yuri's level. Each one held a different arrangement of tiny fir twigs, sprigs of holly, sprays of baby's breath like flakes in snow globes, tiny red tea roses, or clusters of long pine needles with tiny brown pine cones. In the center of each was a battery-operated tea light, flickering with warm, orange light against the clear glass. Yuri had wrapped twinkling, warm white lights around the rails to hold branches of fir in place. A white poinsettia sat in one corner, lights glinting off the gold cellophane wrapped around its pot.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“Yuri, it's _beautiful_. You didn't have to—”

“Don't start that. It wasn't as big a deal as you think. Most of this was freebies.”

“But the terrariums—”

“A case came in cracked. Estelle had to damage them out 'cause we couldn't sell them. They weren't that bad, though, so she let me have them.”

Now that Yuri had mentioned it, Flynn looked harder and noticed the cracks, saw light glinting sharp as a knife's edge along fractures, sparkling on points and junctures where fissures met, flashing like tiny shooting stars with any slight movement. She pulled her eyes away from the decorations to smile at Yuri.

“You still went to the trouble of making the arrangements and setting them up here. Thank you.”

Yuri squirmed within her layers, digging her hands deeper into her pockets. Flynn couldn't tell if the redness across her cheeks was due entirely to the cold or not.

“If you want to thank me, put on some tea. I'm freezing.”

“Oh! Sure. Come in.”

Flynn moved away from the window, beckoning her inside. Yuri was quick to take her up on the invitation. As she swung her legs over the sill, Flynn noticed that she wasn't wearing shoes, only a thick pair of socks. Maybe it had helped her keep quiet while she set up her surprise, but it certainly hadn't helped keep her warm. Straightening up, she shook herself with an emphatic 'Brrr!' and chafed her arms as she looked around. It was the first time she'd been in Flynn's apartment, and she wore her curiosity openly.

“Knew you'd be a neat freak,” she said. She smiled, no offense meant, and followed Flynn into the kitchen to take a quick look around.

The kitchen was just as tiny as hers but far less well-stocked, and as Flynn put the kettle on, Yuri made herself scarce. Flynn could hear her moving around in the apartment, but left her to explore. It wasn't until she came out of the kitchen with two mugs of steeping tea that she realized she might have made a mistake. Two of the cushions off her sofa were missing. Yuri was nowhere in sight.

“Yuri?”

Flynn followed the obvious path back to her room. Sure enough, Yuri was out on the fire escape. She'd stolen the comforter off of Flynn's bed and was laying it out. Leaning out the window, Flynn saw her couch cushions sitting on the landing.

“Any particular reason you're raiding my apartment?”

“Hand me the tea and come outside.”

Any reservations Flynn had had about her cushions and comforter being taken outside melted away in the warmth of Yuri's smile. She passed the tea out the window and pulled on a coat before climbing out. Yuri had made them a cushioned seat just beneath the window. She pulled the comforter up over them as high as the could, leaning over Flynn to tuck it in. They sat side by side, watching the lights from buildings and cars and the little tealights glitter on the glass of the terrariums. Their block was lit with street lamps that shone with a cool white light. Sparkling tinsel had been wrapped around the posts, and the bare trees along the sidewalk had been strung with white lights. Cars rushed past, tail lights adding glowing red to the city below. Sitting on the fire escape above it, cradling hot mugs of tea in their hands, surrounded by twinkling lights and the faint scent of fir, Flynn sighed happily.

“How long until your finals are over?”

“End of next week.”

“That soon? Well. You'll do good. Nerd.” She nudged Flynn with an elbow and was nudged back.

“Thanks,” Flynn said wryly.

“Got any plans for the break?”

“Yeah. I'll be going home right after finals.” She missed her mother's house and the flower beds they had tended together. “I'll be gone for Christmas, but I'll be back by New Year's.”

“We should ring it in together, then.”

Yuri was smiling right at her when Flynn looked, close enough to inspire a fleeting urge to kiss her. Her thundercloud eyes were bright and eager, sparkling like the glass terrariums, like the million tiny lights that lit up the city night. Flynn felt her cheeks heat up. She nodded and took a drink of her tea.

“That sounds great.”

They sat outside chatting and enjoying the lights until Yuri got too cold and crawled back in through Flynn's window. She helped pull in the cushions and the comforter, but left them piled against the wall in order to dive beneath Flynn's sheets. She was a huddled, shivering figure beneath the covers, gray eyes bright where they peeked out.

“Let me warm up before I go home.”

“Are you really that cold?”

Flynn tugged on the sheets, teasing, but Yuri curled tighter around them, nearly yanking them out of her grip. She laughed as Flynn tried in earnest to untangle her, heaving on the sheets and fighting back her own laughter. With a grunt of effort, Yuri rolled herself over, pulling the blankets—and Flynn—with her.

Shaking with laughter, Yuri didn't seem to notice Flynn's predicament. Having been suddenly yanked into bed on top of the girl she'd been falling a little more in love with every day, Flynn wasn't sure she wanted to get back up anytime soon. Yuri was a soft bundle in her arms, wrapped up in blankets that breathed the chill of the night air that had sunk into Yuri's clothes. Her shampoo was a faint sweetness in the air. She was still laughing softly, shoulders bouncing, shivers having eased during the brief tussle. Her laughter faded slowly, then finally stopped. Flynn still hadn't moved. Beneath her, Yuri squirmed.

“You're heavy.”

“Sorry,” she murmured.

Yuri shifted again, snuggling into the bed. “You gonna get off? Not that I mind the extra warmth, but it would probably work better if we were both under the covers.”

How often had she let herself fantasize about simply curling up in bed next to Yuri, holding her close and warm, exchanging kisses? This wasn't the same, she knew. Yuri's invitation was only to sit together like they had outside. It was still tempting. She wondered if Yuri would cuddle up to her. She wondered if holding Yuri close while she warmed up would be pushing the boundaries of their friendship.

“I...should really get back to work on my paper.” Carefully, trying to be sure her hands didn't so much as brush anything they shouldn't, Flynn got up off the bed.

“You work too much,” Yuri muttered. “Guess I should head home.”

“Stay and warm up first.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” On impulse, she leaned over and ruffled Yuri's hair. It made Yuri laugh. Trapped as she was in her nest of blankets, she couldn't get a hand free to take a swipe until Flynn was safely out of reach.

“Go do your work!”

“I'm going, I'm going.” She smiled as she sat down at her desk, pretending, just for a little while, that Yuri was waiting for her.

Time flew by while Flynn worked. When she finally finished up and checked the clock, it was past midnight. She leaned back and rubbed her eyes, tired but accomplished. She still had a few days to proofread and revise, but the bulk of the work was done. She stood up and stretched and turned around to find that Yuri was still curled up in her bed. Flynn had forgotten that she'd been there, and Yuri had apparently forgotten that she was just supposed to warm up before heading home. She had fallen asleep practically in the middle of the bed, still bundled up in all her layers beneath the sheets. Much as Flynn hated to disturb her, she knew that Yuri had work in the morning and would probably need to sleep in her own bed with her own alarm.

Rather than wake Yuri right away, Flynn put it off while she changed into her pajamas and brushed her teeth. When she couldn't delay any longer, she returned to her bedside. Yuri must have woken while Flynn was getting ready for bed, because she spoke up as soon as Flynn's hand touched her shoulder.

“Sending me out into the cold?” She hadn't bothered to open her eyes.

Yuri could go back up through the stairwell rather than taking the fire escape. Flynn didn't remind her of that. Instead, she found herself saying: “You could sleep here tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Yuri mumbled. She retreated further beneath the covers and began fumbling around. Flynn heard the sound of a zipper and guessed that she was shedding a few excess layers.

“What time do you need to be up?”

“Seven thirty.”

Her hoodie was thrust out from beneath the covers and pushed onto the floor. As Flynn set her alarm clock, she saw a sweater and bra discarded as well. Yuri resurfaced as Flynn cut out the lights and untangled the covers to they could share.

As Flynn made herself comfortable, her gaze was drawn out the window. She had forgotten both to draw the curtains and to turn off the lights outside. Now, she was glad that she had. The bubbles of holiday cheer that Yuri had hung outside her window were swaying gently in the wind and glowing softly from within. She watched the twinkling lights until her eyes grew too heavy to stay open, then drifted off with Yuri curled up against her back.

* * *

 

That night cemented Flynn's resolve to tell Yuri how she felt. They had become friends over the course of the semester, but waking up next to Yuri, seeing her burrow into the blankets in denial of the early hour and the relative chill outside the sheets had kindled a warm rush of affection that had nearly wrung an immediate confession out of Flynn. She had ruffled Yuri's hair to satiate the urge to touch, then coaxed her up with a fresh cup of coffee, heavily sweetened and thickened with milk. Watching as Yuri cradled the mug in her blanketed lap, Flynn had known that the question had changed from _if_ she would ask Yuri out to when and how she would do it. She sat in her desk chair, sipping her own cup of coffee and savoring the slow morning, thinking wistfully how nice it would be to wake up next to Yuri regularly, to be able to roll over and wrap her up in an embrace, wake her with kisses....

Yuri stretched, and the arch of her back and the darkness of her hair and t-shirt made her look like a black calla lily. Even her little motions were captivating, and Flynn lowered her eyes and took a sip of coffee, wondering how to go about expressing her feelings. She couldn't bring herself to consider doing so with only words. Their relationship had been planted among flowers and grown among them. It seemed only right to speak with a bouquet as well as her heart. The question was: What kind of flower could she use?

Roses were the first and most obvious choice, but Flynn couldn't help feeling that Yuri would find them laughably cliché. Tulips might have been a good idea, particularly with a few striped ones included as tribute to Yuri's stunning eyes...except Flynn wanted to avoid anything that might remind Yuri of their near falling out that morning that she had stepped in to create a bouquet for a customer. There were lilacs. Purple ones would be perfect, but the flowers were both short-lived and out of season. It was unlikely there would be any available before late spring, and Flynn didn't think she had the patience to wait that long. Before the year was over, she wanted to share her feelings with Yuri.

They finished their coffee and Yuri tugged her sweater back on and her hoodie over it, stuffing her bra into a pocket. She left the same way she had come, pausing halfway out the window to ask if she would see Flynn at the shop. She was a bright-eyed raven perched on the sill, almost a different creature from the sleepy, muttering girl Flynn had woken up with. Of course Flynn would be coming by the shop. She was barely able to resist leaning forward to kiss those smiling lips goodbye.

Flynn watched Yuri hurriedly turn off the tea and fairy lights before climbing up and out of view, then closed her window against the cold morning and got dressed. She had classes waiting for her after her visit to the flower shop. The semester was coming to an end, and most of her professors were talking about what to expect on the finals, or using class time for review. Holiday decorations were everywhere, lights strung on lamp posts and trees and shop displays, seasonal music being pumped through speakers, foot traffic increasing as shoppers bulked up in winter wear took to the streets in search of gifts for family, friends, and coworkers. The air had a distinctly icy bite to it, but as yet, the only snowflakes Flynn had seen had been decorative, clinging to windows or hanging from store ceilings. The year was almost over, and the promise of the new beginning it would bring shone like the morning sun.

* * *

 

It was Saturday afternoon before Flynn was able to take some time to go shopping for a Christmas gift for her mother. She walked a few blocks into downtown Zaphias and window shopped past stores specializing in clothing, cooking supplies, teas and spices, jewelry, beads, music and instruments, chocolate, pottery and stained glass. She wandered unhurriedly, stepping into shops that caught her eye, and hoping to find something that her mother might like.

In the middle of that search, passing by an accessories store, a window display caught Flynn's eye and she stopped in her tracks. A selection of enameled floral hairpins gleamed against a black velvet stand, and Flynn couldn't help picturing how they might look in Yuri's hair. She went inside to take a closer look.

The small shop was cramped with only five other shoppers and the clerk inside. Luckily, the table bearing the hair clips hadn't attracted anyone's attention but her own. Flynn stood over it, fingers hovering over a dozen different styles all done in sterling silver or antiqued brass finishes, metal flowers shining with translucent enamels. There was a curling stem of pearly snowdrops with ribbed leaves, a deep red rose with a crystal dew drop, a bright sunflower. The clips were spread across a black cloth, trailing paper price tags in tangles of white thread. In the clutter of colors and shapes, one in particular stood out. Flynn picked up the clip, turning it to see the play of light across the glassy lavender enamel that coated the four-petaled blossoms clustering between two brassy leaves. A crystal bead hung from the top of the cluster of flowers like a bud. Flynn wondered if Yuri would like it. It was probably the best substitution she would be able to find for real lilacs.

She bought the clip and tucked it safely into her purse. For the rest of the afternoon, her hand continuously fell unbidden to the pocket that held the gift, fingers trailing along its outline. The warm feeling in her chest fluctuated between excitement and anxiety, but she finally had flowers for Yuri. All that was left was finding words to go with them.

* * *

 

Yuri was free Sunday evening. She climbed down the fire escape and knocked on Flynn's window, waving cheerfully as Flynn got up from her desk and came to open the latch. As soon as she could duck beneath the frame, Yuri leaned eagerly into the apartment.

“I made stew. Come on up!”

“Can you bring it down? I can get bowls and spoons.”

“Just bring your report up with you.”

Flynn shook her head, smiling. “I was hoping we could eat out here, actually.” The terrariums still hung around the balcony, and Flynn had added two more poinsettias and a pair of amaryllis.

“You want to eat out in the cold?”

“I want to enjoy my terrace garden with you.”

Yuri gave her a strange look, but she shrugged and ducked back outside. “All right. Back in a minute.”

While she was gone, Flynn collected the cushions off her couch and the thick comforter off her bed, and set up their sitting area, making sure to turn on all the tealights and the strand of tiny white ones wrapped around the railing. She got a pair of bowls and spoons from the kitchen, passing them out to Yuri who had returned wearing at least two more layers and bearing a crock pot of stew. Before climbing out the window, Flynn pulled on a coat and slipped the box containing the lilac hair clip into her pocket. She joined Yuri on the fire escape, settling in next to her and drawing the comforter up close as Yuri ladled up steaming bowls of beef stew.

The stew was delicious, and just the thing to keep them warm against the late autumn chill. Flynn finished off two bowls and complemented Yuri's cooking, gratified by the smile she brought to Yuri's face.

It wasn't quiet on the fire escape, not in the middle of a city like Zaphias. There was the sound of the wind and the rustle of leaves, the rush of tires over pavement, rumble of engines, sharp tak-tak of high heels and the softer slapping of leather or rubber soles against the sidewalk as people passed by, the unintelligible one-sided conversations of those on their phones, the distant wail of sirens, the squeal of breaks, the hoarse roar of motorcycles. It was a cloud of sound, background noise that held true silence at bay. They city's rhythms beat around them as they ate quietly, surrounded by twinkling lights like stars in their own personal galaxy.

As she set aside her bowl, Flynn's hand went immediately to the box in her pocket. She fiddled with it, fingers exploring the edges, the folds of wrapping paper and bits of tape. She wouldn't be leaving to see her mother until Friday. Uncertainty whispered to her that there was no need to rush. Before she could give in to the temptation to put it off, she pulled the box out and offered it to Yuri.

“Here. It's for you.”

“A Christmas gift?” Surprised, Yuri took it from her, turning it over in her hands.

“Not exactly. I.... It's something I wanted to give you.” When Yuri shot her a questioning look, Flynn nudged her. “Open it.”

She tried to watch Yuri's face, searching her expression, but her gaze kept darting down to the box. She saw Yuri tear the paper off and ball it up between them. She watched as Yuri lifted the lid away to reveal the hair clip nestled in tissue paper, an enameled spray of purple lilac flowers.

_The first emotions of love._

Yuri was sitting very still, staring at the gift. Flynn knew that she had covered lilac with Yuri. She wasn't sure if the information had stuck with her, but she also knew better than to imply otherwise. She waited, barely breathing, hoping for Yuri to look up and smile at her, but feeling her anxiety increase with every hurried heartbeat.

“Am I supposed to consider this like a real flower?” Yuri asked finally.

“Yes.”

Yuri turned her head and met Flynn's eyes. “How often have you seen me wearing stuff like this?”

“Um....” Never, come to think of it. “It would like nice on you.”

“The only reason you bought this is because it's a lilac, isn't it?”

“Well, I....” Oops. True, she hadn't considered the fact that Yuri didn't wear hair accessories, but she hadn't thought a gift could set off her temper. “I tried to find real ones, but there's no place in the city that carries them! I just....”

Laughter broke through Yuri's stern expression. “You nerd!”

Before Flynn knew what was happening, Yuri had leaned in close and kissed her cheek. She nestled in close at Flynn's side, studying the hair clip as the dangling crystal winked in the light. A bit stunned, not quite sure things had really gone her way, Flynn tried to explain.

“I wanted to tell you how much I like you. And I thought it was only right to do it with flowers.”

“All right. You've told me. I'm flattered. Now what?”

“Do you, um, feel the same?”

“Hey, just because you're prepared to spell everything out in small words doesn't mean I am.”

“But...you kissed me.”

“Yeah, and I'll probably do it again if you ask me out. Last chance to bail.”

With Yuri tucked in against her side, Flynn twisted to get a better look at her. She was grinning, dark hair falling loose around her lovely face, eyes bright. Flynn's heart skipped a beat, just like it had the day she'd first noticed Yuri working at the flower shop. She felt a little dizzy, a little desperate, and put all her earnestness into her words as she offered them up against Yuri's teasing.

“Will you go out with me?”

Yuri's grin grew larger. She slipped a hand into Flynn's hair and pulled her close for a kiss. Her lips felt as soft as flower petals.


End file.
